Malice in Love
by bugsfic
Summary: A series of drabbles which work as chapters for Alice Harvey and Matthew Lawson as they sort of stumble toward something like a relationships. Uses the prompts of the tdbm drabbles tag on tumblr.
1. Stuck on You

You seem to be stuck there."

Alice glared up at Matthew Lawson. She disliked when men stated the obvious, but they seemed incapable of not doing so. She tugged her foot again, but her pump's heel was truly wedged in the walkway crack.

"It would appear so, Chief Inspector."

He rocked on his cane. "Just plain old mister now, Doctor."

"Yes, Mr Lawson."

"Or Matthew," he said, staring at a nearby rosebush.

"Yes." She cleared her throat.

He took that as a hint. "Here—" He offered his shoulder.

For a few breathtaking moments, they struggled, she clinging to his arm while balancing on her one shod foot, he propped on his cane but tugging her trapped shoe free. Triumphant, they limped in unison to a nearby bench in the hospital garden.

He pulled some mysterious folding tool from his pocket. "I can fix this up. At least get you to a cobbler." He worked at straightening the bent nails on the heel. "I want to thank you for visiting while I was laid up with this leg," he mumbled. "Appreciate it."

"It was no bother. I work at the hospital, after all," she pointed out.

"Still, it was kind."

She tipped her head, puzzled.

"Like to repay you. Would you come to mine for dinner sometime?"

"Your what?"

"My squat. I'll cook."

"You cook?"

"Of course I do."

"Dr Blake doesn't cook."

"I don't have a housekeeper."

"I don't cook either," she confessed.

"I won't ask you to. Perhaps just help with the wash up." He held out her shoe. "All fixed, Doctor Harvey."

Fascinated, she turned the repaired pump in her hands and thanked him, but thinking that she would need to call on Jean again, just not for cooking advice this time.

"Please, call me Alice," she offered.


	2. Stuck in First Gear

"Lucien will be home for tea soon but we have time for a quick chat." Jean glanced at the clock.

Alice furrowed her brow and looked around the kitchen. There was no steaming kettle on the stovetop or cake waiting to be sliced. Jean seemed to be behind on her preparations. "If it's not a bother—"

"Of course not." Jean's gaze slid toward the clock again. "What can I help you with?"

Alice didn't quite know where to start, an unfamiliar sensation for her. She was accustomed to thinking things through clearly and efficiently, but this—

"I like what you've done with your hair," she said lamely.

Jean fluffed her soft curls. "Thank you."

"I should do something different with my hair."

"It's a lovely, vivid color. You could try a style that highlights it—"

The front door banged open, and heavy male footfall thundered down the hall. "Darling, Charlie has to finish a report, so we'll have time for a nice long bath too—" Lucien was in the doorway, shedding his jacket and tie. He spotted Alice and his face fell. "Oh, hello."

"Alice dropped by for a chat." Jean gave a stiff smile. "So why don't _you_ have that bath?"

Lucien frowned. Jean pursed her lips. Alice wondered why anyone would bathe hours before bedtime.

After Lucien's dragging steps faded away, she said, "He's even odder at home than he is at work."

Jean choked on a laugh. "Why don't we have that tea?" She rose.

Alice decided that she best get to it. "Matthew Lawson has asked me to his home. For dinner."

Jean plopped back down in her chair. "Really!?"

Her throat closing, Alice could only nod.

"Yes, we definitely need to do something with your hair," Jean mused, the glint of battle in her eyes.


	3. Apron Strings

"Basting...it's that thing with the spoon?" Matthew Lawson stretched the phone cord taut to reach his stove.

"When do I put the rosemary under the skin-" He winced as Jean told her that should have done it before starting to cook. "Can I toss it on now?"

"Gotta go," he said, ignoring Jean's indignant squawks. He pulled the roasting pan out of the oven and the kitchen filled with the odor of roasted chicken and potatoes. He smiled, satisfied. Maybe this wouldn't go too badly-

Rose banged into the kitchen, dramatic in her flipping hair and flailing handbag. "What a day!" she pronounced. "Edward Tyneman stole my byline, again!"

Matthew was just able to get the oven door closed before she ran into it.

"Smells good, Uncle Matthew. Do you want me to set the table?"

"It's already done." He wiped his hands on his apron.

She giggled and he looked down at the offending garment. It was his long-dead wife's favorite, covered with a pattern of pink roses, and suddenly it seemed utterly inappropriate. He whipped it off.

Rose was peeking into the dining room. "Why are we eating in here? Candles? Linen tablecloth? The holiday china?"

He took a deep breath and mumbled under his breath, " _We_ aren't."

The doorbell rang. His head snapped around.

"Now what?" Rose bustled to the door. "Dr Harvey?" she said, confused.

"Oh. Hello." Alice looked her up and down.

Matthew peeked over Rose's shoulder. "Dr Harvey," he echoed, his expression pained.

She quickly assessed the situation.

She gripped Rose by the shoulders and turned her swiftly so Rose was on the stoop. "Surely there's a story to chase," she said briskly, then closed the door.

Turning her back to Matthew so he could take her overcoat off, she said, "Alice, remember?"


	4. Two Women

"So how was the dinner?" Jean poured tea for she and Alice. Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

"The chicken was bland." Alice carefully sipped her hot tea.

"I bet it needed rosemary," Jean said smugly.

"That would have helped."

"So... Do you think that you'll see Matthew again?"

"I'm not sure," Alice mused. "He's been a touch odd since that evening."

Before Jean could press, Lucien came banging into the house and peered through the hatchway. "Hello, Alice," he said grumpily.

"Why don't you start a bath, Lucien?" Jean said pointedly.

His discontent turned to slyness and he hurried upstairs.

Alice was lost in thought and picked up the conversation once more. "I slept with him; do you think that has something to do with it?"

Jean coughed on her tea. "What?"

"He seemed to enjoy himself. You would think that he'd want to do it again. Perhaps he thinks that he has to cook? I'll tell him that we can go out."

"He probably feels that he's enticed you into ill repute," Jean said carefully.

"Why would he think that? I was the one who told him that we should go to bed."

"He's a man."

Lucien stuck his head around the corner of the hatch, saw Alice was still there, his big smile changed to a grimace, and he disappeared again.

"Men can be odd," conceded Alice.

Both women signed in unison.

"Does he need you to run his bath?" asked Alice.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Jean fought a grin.

Alice's confusion cleared. "I see. I should go then."

Jean shook her head. "I want to help. Stay."

"This is something that Matthew and I must straighten out on our own." Alice stood, her back ramrod with resolve. "There's no recipe to share for that."


	5. The Gents

""What brings you to the hospital?"

Matthew hunched his shoulders. "Hasn't anyone told you not to chit-chat at the trough?"

Lucien appeared puzzled. "No." He fell silent but for the sound of urine hitting porcelain.

"Working with Al-Dr Harvey today?" Matthew asked casually.

"Yes, we've got a drowning victim." Lucien buttoned up and moved to the sink.

Matthew remained at the urinal, staring down until he realized what he was focused on. "Hope she's well," he said as he fastened his trousers.

"It's hard to tell with Alice," Lucien admitted. "But she has seemed preoccupied these days."

Matthew limped over to wash.

"Do you know anything?"

"Of course not." Matthew shied like a horse.

"What's wrong?"

He broke. "I-we...I took advantage!"

Lucien's brow furrowed.

"Of what?"

"Dr Harvey! Alice!"

"Advantage?"

Matthew tipped his head significantly. "Advantage."

Lucien shoved his hands in his pockets and drew his mouth in a thin line. "What do you mean, Lawson?" he said roughly.

It all poured out, bouncing off the tile walls. "I'd planned a nice dinner. To get to know each other better... A glass of sherry... Next thing I know... I'm kissing her... Bed," he ended weakly.

"Advantage," Lucien spit out, grabbed Matthew and pushed him against the wall.

"I'm a bastard," Matthew groaned.

Lucien loosened his grip, thinking. "But she's not upset. She's been visiting with Jean, and seems cheerful."

"She should hate me."

"Perhaps she doesn't," Lucien suggested as he smoothed Matthew's rumpled shirt.

"She should."

"She doesn't." Lucien promised.

This was a revelation for Matthew. He limped through the doorway, deep in thought. Only to run right into Alice. They exchanged uncomfortable pardons.

Alice noticed his damp, wrinkled shirt. "Are you alright?" she asked, uncertain about alot.

"I'm fine," he said, and smiled brightly.

Lucien slipped away unnoticed.


	6. A Modest Proposal

"No."

Alice went to fetch tea, leaving Matthew feeling foolish half kneeling awkwardly on his good knee. Struggling up, he sat on the sofa and got control of his anger.

When she returned and was pouring out, he asked through gritted teeth, "Why not?"

"I don't want to be married." She handed him a teacup.

"Every lady wants to be married!"

Sitting beside him, she explained, "This _woman_ doesn't."

"We can't keep on like this," he sputtered.

"Like what?"

He tipped his head toward the wall; her bedroom lay on the other side. "This," he hissed.

"Why not?"

"People will talk."

"And what will they say?" She took a sip.

He clenched his jaw. He knew she was being obtuse on purpose, and normally he found this little game between them arousing, but not tonight.

"That we're messing around."

"We are."

She offered him a plate of biscuits. He waved them off.

If she wouldn't be swayed by romance and a ring bought with his hard-earned savings, perhaps logic would work. "You do remember that you signed a morality clause at the hospital," he said craftily.

"Look at all the male doctors flaunting that!"

"I don't need to point out that rules are different for women."

She brooded. "It's simply that..." She focused on her teacup.

He shifted closer on the cushion. "Yes?"

She looked around the lounge with all her own possessions. "I like this flat purchased with my wages. I like sleeping in my bed alone. I like quiet evenings reading."

He shifted away. She cocked her head, and her next words were filled with wonder. "But I also like you, Matthew. A great deal."

Putting down his cup on the coffee table, he pushed the unopened ring box across to her. "It's a start," he said comfortably.


	7. What Are Your Intentions?

"What did you think of them?" Matthew asked, handing Alice a plate to dry.

She efficiently wiped it, and bought time by saying, "Your daughters?"

He frowned. "Who else?"

Mary and Joan had come to dinner. They had not brought their husbands or children. It was obvious to Alice that this had been a reconnaissance mission. A threat was to be assessed and dealt with, and that's exactly what they'd done.

Never married, Miss Harvey? Oh, it's doctor, really? You.. cut up bodies? I suppose you'd need to be a very cold person to do that-

Matthew's protests had been brushed aside.

You worked full time? How will you take care of Dad?

"I'm not some invalid," Matthew had sputtered.

Joan had patted his hand. "Dad, you're so much older than Miss Harvey. I don't think that either of you realize that you'll need more care soon."

Mary had smirked at Alice. "You're so busy, with _work_." She said it like a dirty word.

Putting away the plate, Alice said carefully, "They want what they believe is best for their father."

"You think they don't like you?"

"It doesn't matter-" Alice wiped down the workbench, avoiding his indignant gaze.

"I wanted you to all get along," he said, sulking.

Folding her arms, she glared down her nose at him. "And why was that important? Somehow, these young ladies have the impression that they have to protect their father from a manhunter."

His eyes shifted.

She smoothed her hands down her skirt. "It was an... Interesting evening." She really did need to stop attending family meals. "But I should go."

"Alice-"

"I should go," she repeated.

Hobbling as fast as he could, he caught her by the door. "A kiss goodnight?"

"Best not," she whispered, and kissed him goodbye, not goodnight.


	8. Expectations

"Someday you'll wear white, Alice."

Other little girls pranced around with a lace table runner on their head, clutching half-dead daisies. Alice was reading a book, hidden under the stairs away from Uncle Jock's seeking gaze. She dreamed of wearing white, but that of a doctor's lab coat.

"Someday you'll have a baby of your own, Alice." One was placed in her thin arms and she looked down at the hot, squirming body with its old man face and felt nothing but slight distaste at the smell. She was grateful for her reaction when she autopsied her first infant.

Ignoring all the disapproval and nasty whispers, she earned that white coat, an expansive flat, and solitary peace. She looked around her lounge with its coral-pink velvet suite, and should have felt satisfaction. She picked lint from the settee's arm and found herself focused on the phone.

Matthew had done everything expected of a High Street grocer's son; married the butcher's daughter, worked his way up through the police ranks. And where had it gotten him? Widowed, crippled, and out of a job.

He felt that he'd known what pain was when Kathy had died and the girls married, had children of their own, and stopped visiting. He handled that by closing in even more, following the rules more closely, judging one and all. Then the crunch of metal against bone tore that tough shell away, leaving him exposed and soft-fleshed. He was just recovering when he'd leaned over and kissed a set of pursed lips under narrowed flashing eyes.

Could he start over? Toss away all those expectations? He glared at his phone as though it would give him an answer. Only one way to find out-

They both stared at their phones' receivers, greatly offended by the busy signal.


	9. A Shoulder to Cry On

Lucien watched Alice carefully. Anyone who didn't know her well would just see an efficient, professional doctor going about her business. But he was observant and more importantly, her friend.

He cleared his throat. She continued to dissect the fatty liver in the enamel tray. He sighed loudly. She smeared a tissue sample on a glass plate and put it under the microscope.

Finally, he spoke. "So..." He didn't know what to say. It didn't matter. She wasn't listening to him.

"Alice?"

She was staring into the microscope but he could tell that she didn't see anything.

"Dr Harvey," he barked.

Her head snapped up and she focused on him. "Oh. It's you."

Now that he had her attention, Lucien couldn't think how to word this. She didn't know that he knew about her and Matthew, only he didn't know if that was still on, although he sensed it was not. Alice was in a dark mood, and Matthew's manner several shades blacker, if that was possible.

"How are you?" he asked with his best bedside manner tone.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. Lucien cocked his head and exuded understanding. She narrowed her eyes.

"Hey, Lucien, have you got that report ready yet-" Lawson limped through the morgue doorway. "If I'm going to do this job right, I'm going to need your help." His face blanched and his gaze shot between Alice and Lucien. Lucien immediately looked guilty.

Alice spit, "You told him!"

"I didn't-" Matthew started. "Well, I did-"

Lucien tried: "I don't-"

"Your mate! All boys together!" With that, Alice stormed out.

Lucien stated the obvious. "That could have gone better."

"You had a plan?" Matthew leaned heavily on his cane.

"Not really."

Matthew gave his first order since returning to the police force. "Well get one."


	10. Christmas Cheer

Alice decided that she must stop accepting dinner invitations to the Blake house. She glared across the table at the happy couple. Jean gave her a wide, insincere smile. Lucien was very interested in the rim of his whisky glass, sliding his fingertip along checking for chips. Those two had obviously arranged this latest meal from hell.

Then there was Matthew. He sat to her left, head down, steadily eating his Christmas dinner. He ignored the daggers she shot his way. He'd never called- She supposed that she could have refused to stay when she'd discovered him there, but she wasn't going to let him win. Giving an outraged huff, she drained her wine glass.

Matthew chewed the roast pork more aggressively than necessary. He wasn't going to let that woman ruin his meal. After all, if he didn't stay, it was another lonely dinner down at the pub. Just because she didn't want him- too old, too lame, too old-fashioned... The talk of marriage had spooked her. He gulped down his whisky.

Later, he blamed the three scotches. She would blame the half a bottle of wine. They both teetered through the doorway, his cane tangled in her legs, her heels suddenly felt much higher than when she'd put them on, and the end result was an awkward sort of hug, each trying to save the other.

"Sorry."

"Yes."

He'd had to press her against the doorframe to keep them both upright. "Sorry," he repeated.

"Yes," she said again.

"Had too much Christmas cheer."

"Yes." Something above his head caught her attention.

He glanced up. Mistletoe hung over them. "Well. Right. Yes." He still hadn't released her.

Lucien and Jean were in the kitchen, loudly washing dishes, bellowing about the weather.

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered, and kissed her.


	11. First Call

"Matthew, why're you telephoning? You're sitting right behind me."

"Don't turn around," Matthew hissed.

Lucien twisted back forward in his chair.

"We must talk."

"Do we?"

"I need advice."

"We could go for a drink-"

"No, I don't want to talk about Alice in a pub."

"It's about Alice?"

"Yes." Matthew fell silent.

Lucien prodded: "Did you make up?"

"Yes."

"Matthew, if you're not more forthcoming-"

"She got me into the sack again."

"Alright." Lucien cleared his throat. "It doesn't sound like you need advice."

"Bloody hell, man," Matthew barked. Ned shot him a puzzled look; he lowered his voice. "This isn't what I want-"

"Really?"

"No! I mean, yes, but it's unseemly," he hissed.

"Matthew, it's not anyone's business-"

"Like how Ballarat doesn't make it their business what's going on with you and Jean?"

Lucien didn't know what to say.

"I can't have her reputation sullied; her career threatened. I know she doesn't care, but I do."

"That's very noble, Matthew."

"I don't want to be noble! I want to be married!"

"Don't know if I can help, mate. I haven't have much luck with that."

"She doesn't want to be married."

"Really? She sounds rather keen."

"It seems she doesn't want to be married, but she does want me."

"A logical conclusion from her actions," Lucien mused.

"But how do I get her to marry me?" growled Matthew. "For appearances sake."

Lucien thought. "Jean."

"Jean," Matthew said slowly.

"Dr Harvey is a self-sufficient woman. If she doesn't want to be married, she shouldn't be pressured," Jean said, balancing the receiver between her ear and shoulder while chopping carrots.

"Jean... It's for Matthew. And Alice too."

She sighed. "I'll try."

Looking around room, he whispered. "Love you."

She smiled. These were the type of calls she liked to get.


	12. Championship Round

_Oops, I had one more chapter and forgot to post it. With the expectation that TPTB were going to do Malice as canon, I thought I better wrap my version up. Only S5 is nearly over and there's been no movement there. Errr..._

* * *

Alice watched Matthew through narrowed eyes. He balanced carefully on his good leg and put away the freshly washed dinner plates, whistling cheerfully.

Shockingly, Matthew had announcing that he'd withdraw his marriage proposal, and 'shack up' in her flat, with no expectation but companionship, even promising to ignore the gossip. She suspected a trap, but accepted. He'd show his hand soon enough.

Hanging up the damp towel, he gave a vague smile. "Watch some telly?"

She pursed her mouth. His one request was to bring that box. She sat stiffly beside him, but he focused on the flickering tube. The programme was called a quiz show, and at first she was contemptuous, but was soon caught up in surpassing the contestants' scores. During the advertisement breaks, he told her about a set of murders which occurred during his favourite show. It was a surprisingly entertaining evening.

Bedtime. Wearing striped pyjamas and woollen gown, he hovered outside her bedroom door. "Shall I sleep..." He'd promised that he'd keep to the guest room until she wished his company.

Tonight she did. But he raised the stakes there too. He made love too slowly, cherishing her body, murmuring much too frank things. She could barely enjoy herself. Everything was different, even if the lover was the same. Afterward, he stroked a curl off her cheek, brushing away the tears.

"Shall I go?"

"Perhaps it's for the best."

He swung his legs off the bed and pulled up his bottoms with a groan. Red scars stood out in the dimness before they were covered.

Alice lay back, tucking her hand under her head. "Or you could stay if you wish."

His shoulders relaxed. "Alright."

Under the covers, arms around her, his cool nose at her neck... He'd found his rightful place in her home.


End file.
